


the spell you got on me

by classics_club



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, blushin iwa-chan, iwaizumi is Very Gay, oikawa is embarrassing, the beginning sounds like smut but it's just tooth-rotting fluff im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 21:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4452839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/classics_club/pseuds/classics_club
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa is shameless, and Iwaizumi suffers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the spell you got on me

**Author's Note:**

> this is not my first fic by a long shot, but it is my first published work. i dearly hope you enjoy!!!  
> fic title from the song magic by mystery skulls

The first time they have sex and Iwaizumi asks the boy who’s caught bugs with him for almost eighteen years with badly concealed nervousness what, exactly, he wants from him, Oikawa lets his eyelids drop, his voice go husky, and says coyly,

“Spoil me, Iwa-chan.”

With an undignified noise akin to a squawk, Iwaizumi feels blood rush all-too-fast right to his head, and he all but tumbles off the bed while Oikawa whines and crawls after him, saying, “Iwa-chan, come back! I wouldn’t have said it if I knew you’d get that embarrassed!”

That part is a lie. It’s not the first time it’s happened, and Iwaizumi’s sure as he lies half-on the ground, the star-decal spotted ceiling spinning above him, that it won’t be the last. Oikawa is shameless. His natural good looks and uncanny ability to talk his way out of anything have allowed him to get away with much more than he should.

And, as expected, one of his dear, dear pastimes is using this brazen charm on Iwaizumi.

A seven-year-old Iwaizumi wonders why he suffers. Oikawa, as skinny as the little brat may be, is heavier than he looks, and while Iwaizumi often boasts his strength the boy’s weight on his back is starting to become a nuisance. It’s also hot outside, midday in the thick of a very humid summer, and Oikawa’s chest is sticky against his back.

“Tooru,” he grouses, hefting his friend’s weight. “it’s just a scraped knee. You can walk.”

“But Iwa-chan, it’s _still bleeding_ ,” Oikawa reminds him for the third time that hour. “do you want me to _die_ from blood loss? You’ll be responsible for my death, you know. My mom will probably hate you.”

He snorts at this. Oikawa-san likes him better than her own son. “Idiot. If you were gonna die from blood loss, you’d die whether I was carrying you or not. C’mon,” he grunts, shifting Oikawa’s weight yet again. “you’re heavy. Get off.” he stops in the middle of the sidewalk. A bike zips past.

Oikawa is silent for a moment, then presses his cheek to Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “Fine, I will if you really want me to,” he’s agreeing too easily, and Iwaizumi feels suspicious. “y’know, Iwa-chan, I’m actually surprised you could carry me as long as you did. You’re _really_ strong. You’re like a superhero!” Oikawa buries his face in Iwaizumi’s neck, smile pressing into the sweaty skin. “You’re _my_ superhero, Hajime.”

He knows it’s a ploy, but his heart starts thudding hard, and his face feels hotter than the sun. “Whatever, stupid,” he manages without stuttering. “w-we’re almost home, anyway. I can carry you for a little longer.”

They’re in their third year of middle school, and Oikawa’s newfound fanclub is starting to gain steam. There’s love notes in his locker every week, and barely a day goes by when Iwaizumi arrives to class and doesn’t see a gaggle of girls crowded around his desk, shyly presenting home-baked goods or congratulating him on his last game. Oikawa at first revels in the attention, as Iwaizumi suspected he would, and he resigns himself to mornings condemned as oikawa’s reluctant secretary, filing away the carefully-crafted love letters that Oikawa will recite theatrically to him during lunch. He wonders if he should invest in a pair of earplugs.

Eventually, though, Oikawa proves to be a normal human (to Iwaizumi’s vocal surprise) and he gets tired of it. “They keep coming to my house,” he complains one morning before they enter the classroom. “it’s annoying.”

“I know,” Iwaizumi says, unsympathetic. “I can see them. I live two houses away from you.”

“And you don’t come to my rescue, Iwa-chan?” he presses a scandalized hand to his chest. “how rude. Not to worry, though,” he says as if Iwaizumi had been doing anything remotely close to worrying. “I have a plan today.”

The plan, as it turns out, is walking up to the girls clustered at his seat and declaring rather loudly, “Pardon me, ladies, but I’ll have to ask you to save your lovely visits for the afternoon from now on.” At the resulting disappointed chorus, Oikawa grins and iwaizumi is hit with a sudden sense of dread. “You see, morning is the only alone time Iwa-chan and I get during the day-“ at this, he makes a successful grab for Iwaizumi’s hand and laces their fingers together.

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence because of the collective squeal of delight that rises from the group, and they usher themselves out with sparkling eyes and knowing grins.

“Dumbass!” iwaizumi yanks his hand out of oikawa’s grip so fast he can hear his knuckles crack. The back of his neck feels like it’s on fire, and he fights to keep the blush from his face. “What was that for! They’re going to think we’re dating!”

Oikawa flops into his seat with a relieved sigh. “That’s the point, Iwa-chan. Now they won’t bother me in the morning,” he flaps a dismissive hand at Iwaizumi’s appalled expression. “what’s the harm? Half the grade thinks we’re together anyway.”

“No they don’t-“

“Yes we do,” says a boy across the aisle from Oikawa. Iwaizumi wants to punch him, but instead he stomps to his desk (the teacher had been forced to separate them due to a head-butting incident) and tries very hard not to think about Oikawa’s fingers intertwined with his.

It’s the summer before their last year of high school. Iwaizumi, by now, has figured out two very important things: one, he is very gay, and two, he is very gay specifically for Living Human Mess Oikawa Tooru. It’s an unfortunate realization, but he’s learned to deal.

As the summer comes to an end, Oikawa rallies the team for a car wash in order to raise funds for the coming year. It’s hot outside, and before long Iwaizumi has stripped off his shirt, prompting several whistles from Hanamaki, Matsukawa, and even a few of the alumni. He glares at them self-consciously. He’s been working out, yes, but he’s not used to attention like Oikawa is. As it is, two girls have already pulled in and asked for his number. 

Oikawa, speaking of which, has yet to make a comment on his state of undress, and Iwaizumi half-successfully quashes the disappointment in his gut. Hanamaki claps him on the back. “If it means anything, he accidentally sprayed someone with the hose when you took your shirt off.”

It does mean something, but Iwaizumi doesn’t want Hanamaki to know that. He throws him a nasty glare. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Except later, when Oikawa waltzes up to him, grips his bicep, and says, “Iwa-chan, look at these guns! We should have just made people pay for pictures.” Iwaizumi feels himself turn bright red. He elbows Oikawa in the gut and glowers, but he can feel Hanamaki’s knowing look a mile away.

They’re twenty-two and lying in bed, post-coital, Oikawa running his fingers in swirling patterns over Iwaizumi’s chest wile Iwaizumi strokes his tousled hair, peaceful in the pale morning light filtering through the drapes of their shared apartment.

He thinks about all the times Oikawa’s embarrassed him, how many brain cells he’s probably lost due to the heady rushes of blood his boyfriend has a penchant for causing. Somehow it’s all worth it, he thinks, and shifts over onto his side so that he can watch Oikawa’s face, soak in the warm brown of his eyes, the light smattering of freckles across his nose, the sharp curve of his jaw.

Oikawa smiles at him then, soft and genuine, lit by the rising sun. Iwaizumi makes a split-second decision upon seeing this and thinks it might be the best idea he’s had in his life.

“Tooru,” he says quietly, voice rough from sex and sleep. “will you marry me?”

Slowly, Oikawa opens his eyes all the way. In a flurry of movement he kicks off the blankets and sits up fast, shapely lips parted in surprise. “…what?”

“I asked if you would marry me.”

Iwaizumi watches as Oikawa turns bright red, a ruddy glow spreading up his neck and across his cheeks. He shrieks suddenly and buries his face in Iwaizumi’s chest.

He rumbles out a laugh. “Is that a yes?”

“Of course it is, you big dumb oaf!” Oikawa cries, voice muffled into his skin. “You’re so embarrassing!”

“Well,” he nudges Oikawa’s chin up and leans down to kiss him, smiling against his lips. He’s grinning when he pulls away. “I’ve had lots of experience.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a kudos or a comment (or both) if you enjoyed! come yell at me about iwaoi at iwowzumi.tumblr.com


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